“Is that a proposition?” He winked at her and stepped out of his Chevy.
Her mouth opened and closed, but no words came out. He was a shameless tease, and now he knew she had never shared a bed with a man in her entire life. She was only twenty years old, for heaven’s sake. She hadn’t been ready, and clearly the guy she’d chosen turned out to be a slime ball. So, Justin could take his teasing and stick it where the sun don’t shine.
She watched as he strode out in front of the Cutlass, his headlights shining bright so he could see. She listened when he told her to reach inside and pop the hood, then his head disappeared underneath. Her dad had replaced the engine and everything necessary when he bought it all those years ago. She hadn’t put that many miles on it, but cars that old—even good ones—could have faults.
“It could be a rotor issue or something else entirely,” Justin called from under the hood. He closed it and dusted off his hands. He’d been touching all kinds of things under there, and she had no idea what was what.
Justin walked over to the bed of his truck and began opening the built-in tool box. She watched as he dug around for a few minutes, then closed the lid and walked back to her. He hadn’t said what he was looking for.
“Shit, sugar, I wish I was a mechanic. I don’t have any answers for you, but what I do have…is a tow strap.” He held it up and flashed his gorgeous smile. She still didn’t understand how he was single. Yeah, he’d never fallen in love, whatever. He would’ve been eaten alive by women where she came from.
“If you throw this baby in neutral and just steer the wheel, I can haul it back right now.” His arm was leaning on the door as he looked down at her.
“Just keep your foot ready to step on the brake. Okay, sweetheart?”
Blythe felt her stomach drop, and her defenses reared in front of Justin for a second time.
“Don’t ever call me sweetheart again.” She was angry. “There’s been two men in my life to call me that, and every time it was derogatory.”
Her dad was one; her ex fiancé was the other.
She was glaring at him now, tears welling in her eyes. He let go of the door and reached inside the car, pulling her out of the seat and into his arms.
“Hey…” he sang softly, “I’m sorry. I promise to never call you that again. I didn’t know.” His strong arms held her tightly before loosening his hold and bringing his palms to her jaw—tilting her face up toward his.
“Will you let me pull you home?” She could see the regret in his eyes, the same feeling she was drowning in after snapping so quickly.
Justin was a good man. He was a man who cared about other people and how his words affected them… What a concept? She rested into his chest and whispered an apology.
“There’s nothing to be sorry for. Now I know—you’re sugar, and only sugar to me, from now on.”
She smiled and let out a breath. She loved it when he called her that.
He let her go, and she sat back in the driver’s seat of her car. She stepped on the brake and put it in neutral. Justin took care of hooking the strap to the vehicle and making sure all the correct settings were in place for towing.
Blythe steered her car and made sure to stay in line with Justin’s tail lights. She still felt the pain of regret for snapping at him. Especially after he dropped everything and came to her the minute she called. She was beginning to realize she had certain triggers when it came to men, now that she recognized how easily she’d been controlled by the last one. She reminded herself that Justin wasn’t him, and she needed to be more aware of her reactions to things.
After they arrived back at the ranch and he’d unhooked everything, she hugged him goodbye.
“Thanks for rescuing me tonight. I don’t know what you were doing before, but I am grateful.”
She felt his arms tighten around her and his chin rest on the top of her head.
“You called, I came—simple as that. Wherever you are, no matter what, you call me. I’ll be there every time.”
It was just a dream. He had them periodically, and when he did, they always left him shaken. Justin lay there, trying to catch his breath, cold sweat covering his limbs and torso. The dreams were more remembrances than anything. They felt cold, hungry, and alone—and if he let them go on too long, he could feel the pain. His ribs, his wrists…his backside. He reached up and let his hand slide down his face, from his forehead all the way off his chin. He reached for his phone to check the time.
One-thirty AM. There was a text message unopened and waiting for him.
Blythe: I like to dance. Do you know how to country swing?
He smiled, and his nightmare started to fade. He knew she wouldn’t get it til morning, but he typed back a message and hit send. He sat his phone back down and flipped over to face the opposite wall. His nose bumped into Bear.
“Thanks, buddy,” he whispered as he petted up and down his body.
He’d been headed into the local grocery one morning when two little boys wearing cowboy hats called to him from the bed of their dad’s pickup. Probably between the ages of five and ten, they had a box sitting next to them with the word “free” written on the front in black sharpie.
“Our mama says we can’t keep all these hound pups. We already got too many.” The younger boy reached in and grabbed one out. “No one seems to want hounds ‘round here. They all want Aussies or Heelers—cow dogs.” The boy began petting the puppy’s head and stroking down his back. “This one is my favorite, and I don’t want him going to the pound if someone doesn’t pick him up today.”
